


Secondary Collapse

by yarroway



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Episode: s07e23 Moving On, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9198914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/yarroway
Summary: Disclaimer: House, M.D. belongs to Heel & Toe Films, ShoreZ Productions, Bad Hat Harry Productions, and Universal Media Studios. I'm not making any money from this.Thanks: to Srsly_yes for a fast and essential beta.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: House, M.D. belongs to Heel & Toe Films, ShoreZ Productions, Bad Hat Harry Productions, and Universal Media Studios. I'm not making any money from this.
> 
> Thanks: to Srsly_yes for a fast and essential beta.

I sat in the back of the ambulance talking to the cop and cradling my aching wrist.  The EMT had set it in a brace and talked about an ER and X-rays, but about that time the police had wanted to interview me, so nothing had happened yet.  The cop closed his notepad and told me to call him if anything else occurred to me.  
  
"I should have gone after him," I said, because in my shock I'd let House walk away, just walk off as if he was fine and all was well, and now I was terrified of what might happen to him.  What he might do.  
  
"He'd have attacked you too. It's best if you let us handle this," he assured me, but what he meant was _it's best if House is in prison._  
  
The last of the fire fighters climbed out of the wreckage, and the officer went to talk to them.  
  
Cuddy made her way over to me, dust and tears streaking her face.  "How's the wrist?"  
  
I glanced down at it.  "Broken, I think."  
  
She nodded uncertainly.  
  
"Do you and Rachel need a place to stay?" I asked.  
  
"No, we're moving in with Julia and Scott until I can find a new home.  The firemen said that the crash damaged some load-bearing beams.  They aren't sure my house is structurally sound anymore."  
  
I wasn't sure _my_ House was structurally sound anymore, either.  House and Cuddy's emotional collision had taken more out of both of them than a few beams.  
  
"Lisa!" Julia called from her car.  
  
"I have to--" Cuddy said, gesturing to the car.  I guessed that, since the police were done interviewing her, she was going to get Rachel.  
  
She seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, so I nodded.  I had to talk to her about House, but this was the worst possible moment for an appeal.  She turned to go, and looking at her stony profile I was suddenly afraid that I'd run out of time.  
  
"Cuddy," I called.  She looked back at me.  "Don't press charges," I pleaded.  "You have the power to take everything from him, to finish the job you began with his leg all those years ago.  Don't.  I know what he did was wrong, and reckless, and …but you know that he's somewhere beating himself up over this.  He's already punishing himself worse than we ever could."  
  
Cuddy shook her head slowly.  "That doesn't make it okay."  
  
She was right, but she was wrong, and it was complicated, and awkward, and horrible.  "Just think about it.  Please."  
  
She didn't answer me, but that was the best I could hope for right now.  I watched her walk away, and wondered where House was.  
  
******  
  
_House limped off the plane and got in line for a taxi._  
  
_"The Cove," he told the driver as he slid into the back seat._  
  
*****  
  
"C'mon," the EMT said behind me.  "We'll take you to the ER."  
  
It was just me and the EMTs, now, and two tired cops taking photos of the damage while the tow truck driver waited impatiently for them to finish.  
  
It was dark.  Night had fallen, and I hadn't noticed.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
"No," I said, getting out of the ambulance.  "I'm calling a cab."

  
The guy didn't argue, just had me sign some paperwork that I was refusing all further treatment.  Then he drove off.  
  
I stood there watching the police impound House's car.  They nailed plywood across the hole in Cuddy's walls and wrapped yellow tape around the house. By the time they left it was fully dark.  
  
I'd had some crazy thought of going inside and grabbing a stuffed animal for Rachel to make her feel more secure, but I wasn't dumb enough to risk a secondary collapse.  
  
I was dumber.  
  
I had to find House, but I didn't want any contact we had to show up on my cell records.  So I called a cab to take me to House's place, picked up my car, drove to a bodega I knew near my old house, and bought a disposable cell phone.  Then I went searching for House.  
  
I must have hit every seedy bar in Princeton.  I got yelled at, propositioned, and nearly had my wallet lifted, but didn’t find him. I left message after message as I drove, holding the phone in my aching hand, begging him to call and tell me that he was okay.  He never did.  Finally, near dawn, I gave in to my growing fear and called the morgues.  They didn't have him either.  
  
As the sun streaked the sky with pink, I drove home.  My heart lifted.  I realized that House could have come here.  I might walk inside and find him sprawled across my couch, fast asleep.  In the morning I'd deal with his hangover and his attitude, and we'd go see Cuddy and get our stories straight and make things right with the cops.  
  
This could all still be okay.  
  
*****  
  
_House placed his empty mojito glass on the cocktail napkin, precisely inside the circle of condensation._  
  
He was having a pretty good time, feeling relaxed and calm.  Far happier than he'd been in Princeton.  He should have done this weeks ago.  
  
*****  
  
The loft was empty.  I stared at the organ, shrouded under a dust cloth, and wondered what my next step should be.  He wasn't in a bar, and he wasn't here, and he wasn't at the hospital.  The cops had checked, and Cuddy had security looking for him there too.  They'd searched House's apartment, but they hadn't stayed there.  He could easily have snuck in after the police left.  
  
I put food out for Sarah and rooted around in my desk drawer until I found the keys House had given me long ago.  
  
I made it to House's in under ten minutes.  
  
*****  
  
_House took a deep breath of fresh ocean air.  He walked slowly along the beach, thinking about Cuddy and Wilson and the team as if they were figures on a chessboard.  He replayed all his own recent moves, and theirs, then rewound the game and played it out differently, again and again, until he saw the moves he, the black king, might have made to keep his queen, his castle, and his knight._  
  
_Understanding cleared his mind.  He swept the board clean._  
  
*****  
  
The piano was silent.  There was no sound from the television.  I fumbled with the keys.  Was House dead in the bathtub this time?  
  
"House?" I called.  "House?"  
  
He didn’t answer.  I got the door open. "House!"  No one in the living room or kitchen.  The bedroom was empty as well.  I stopped before the bathroom, my heart pounding. Had he blown his brains out?  Had he OD'd while I was out wasting time?  
  
My hands shook as I opened the door, but the bathroom was empty.  
  
I returned to the living room.  Had House come back here at all? I checked in the closet.  His emergency bag was gone.  
  
I sighed.  That bag had papers, money, everything a man might need if he had to run out the door during an earthquake or fire.  Or, in House's case, if he wanted to disappear.  I wasn't even sure all the papers had the same name on them.  
  
I booted up his computer, wanting to check his recent history.  It was blank.  Everything was blank.  He'd wiped his hard drive.  
  
I wasn't going to be able to find him.  
  
_Get out of the car._   It was almost the last thing he'd said, except to mock me.  
  
I sank down to the floor.  House was gone.  
  
_Get out of the car._  
  
Had he wanted me out because he knew I would have stopped him?  Had this been just another test to see what would happen when he pushed me away?  Or had he possibly, possibly, wanted to keep me from getting hurt? Not that he'd seemed to care about my wrist afterwards.  
  
If House had thrown me out to protect me, he'd misjudged.  I had failed to help him, and failed to stop him. He was out there somewhere doing things to himself that I didn't want to imagine.  The police had told me to let them know when House contacted me, but I realized now that he wouldn't.  He had burned his bridges, and I was one of them.   Who now would worry about him?  Who would make stupid bets with him, and play pranks on him, and get drunk with him?  Who would get to hear him play his music?  
  
_Get out of the car._  
  
After the call from Cuddy about his self-surgery I'd known just how close I was to having my worst fears come true. I'd tried to distract him, to support him, to help him.  And now it was over.  I'd lost House.  
  
With a rumble, the load-bearing beams gave way.  I drew the curtains on all the windows against the sun, and turned off the lights. I gathered up the old spare blanket.  Then I lay down on the couch.  I pulled the blanket over me, and closed my eyes.  


 


End file.
